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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087473">Barren Hearts Grow No Flowers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okaysha/pseuds/Okaysha'>Okaysha</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeUnicorns/pseuds/SomeUnicorns'>SomeUnicorns</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Choking, Emotionally Repressed, Fantasy Body Horror, Hanahaki Disease, Hospitals, Lots of Throwing Up, M/M, Nekoma, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma, Otome Game Discussions, Pre-Slash, Sickfic, Swearing, Team Dynamics, sweaty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:42:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okaysha/pseuds/Okaysha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeUnicorns/pseuds/SomeUnicorns</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma wasn't interested in romance. He wasn't in love with his teammates, he wasn't in love with a video game character, and he WASN'T in love with—</p><p>Well, that doesn't matter. Kenma was probably sick with some OTHER flower-puking disease.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>154</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Theme song: I Think I Love You by The Partridge Family</p><p>This has been in the works for SOOO LONG. I'm glad to see it come to fruition. Like tilling the soil, I am Ujishima--just a humble farmer.</p><p>-Okaysha</p><p>somethingUNICORNS here! This was in my Google Docs entitled "eDGY hANAHAKI dRAFT" for a looong time. Like at least a year. I had about 70% of it done, and then didn't feel like finishing the rest. I let my good buddy Okaysha look at it, and she, that maverick, filled in the rest of it so it could be published(She also wrote the summary!). Voila. Something edgy.</p><p>-somethingUNICORNS</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One morning, there was blood and seed in the sink. Kenma knew about the Hanahaki disease (everybody did), but as he stared at the round seeds slowly sliding downwards in a red trail, he wondered if they could mean something else. After all, he had never been in love. Nor had he desired such an experience. It all seemed...<em> unnecessary. </em></p><p>Kenma took a deep breath, feeling a pressure in his esophagus. It didn’t feel great—like the time he had chicken pox and the blisters had spread down into his throat. He wondered dryly what he was going to do to make the seeds go away when he had no such secret feelings to confess.</p><p>Kenma stared at his breakfast. His stomach gurgled, despite his lack of hunger. But Kenma had a history of passing out when he didn’t eat a proper meal before heavy practice, so he cautiously took a piece of toast in his mouth, nibbling the corner. </p><p>He winced, feeling the lump of food squeeze down his throat before hitting a point that made him nearly throw it back up. </p><p>Kenma decided he didn’t want to tell his parents. </p><p>He wasn’t in love and he didn’t want to answer the inevitable question, <em> “So who do you have a crush on?”  </em></p><p>It was no one.</p><p>The seeds were a mistake and would wither away on their own—just like when he had chicken pox. </p><p>“Kuroo’s outside, you better get going,” said his mother. </p><p>Kenma dragged away from his uneaten breakfast, slinking to the sink for a glass of water. Gulping it down without taking a breath, he tried to fill his stomach, hoping it might also drown whatever might be growing inside of him.</p><p>Kuroo stood at the end of the front walkway, bag hanging off one shoulder like a cool anime character. </p><p>“Kenma, you look like shit," he greeted. "I thought the ‘rents stopped you from playing video games so late.”</p><p>Kenma rubbed his eyes with the back of his forearm before smacking his hands over his cheeks.</p><p>“Whatever. I’m not sick,” Kenma mumbled to the ground as he walked past.</p><p>Kuroo trailed behind him. “Uh, I didn’t say you <em> were </em> sick?”</p><p>“Because I’m not.” Kenma pulled out his phone to show his disinterest in the conversation.</p><p>“Um...O<em> kay? </em>As long as you’re not trying to skip out of practice.”</p><p>Kenma’s face didn’t betray how his heart began to beat in panic. </p><p><em> Practice. </em> </p><p>Would he be able to make it through today? <em> No </em>—he shook the thought away, clasping a hand over his heart to calm it down. It shouldn't be an issue. This morning was a fluke. He wasn’t in love. </p><p>Throughout first period, Kenma felt a pressure erupting in his lower esophagus. Like the moment when your chest tightens before a cough, but the cough never comes. He tried discreetly hitting his chest during his lessons, hoping <em> something </em> would loosen up. No luck.</p><p>It didn't get any better throughout the day. Kenma burped—something bitter and acidic leaping into his mouth. It tasted like how pine needles smelled, only more pungent. He wanted to gag, but swallowed the instinct (and taste) down while he was stuck in class. He wished his stomach would settle soon. </p><p>He tried to flush the flavor away, refilling his water bottle every break and free period, over and over, quickly chugging it down. It seemed, no matter how much he drank, he would immediately sweat it all out. <em> Why was he so sweaty? </em> Sweaty, and yet, his hands were so <em> cold </em>. Kenma stifled a sigh as he massaged his warm red face under their cool touch. </p><p>He wondered if he looked as gross as he felt and if everybody had noticed it. <em> Kuroo had. </em> Would they figure out he had Hanahaki? (Although, Kenma was almost certain he didn’t actually <em> have </em>it.) </p><p>He imagined how the people would point and whisper to each other, <em> he’s in love, he’s in love. </em> But he wasn’t. There was no way.  </p><p>  ***</p><p>Kenma beelined for the bathroom during lunch break. He wondered, as he stared into the shining white toilet bowl, if he could just puke and get it over with. </p><p>He tried to make himself retch, gulping and heaving until another burst of bitter leaf juice came up, just enough to trickle a small pool in his mouth. Okay—once more and he might be able to make himself-</p><p>Kenma braced a hand on the toilet. After a few more dry heaves he finally felt something give. He coughed, something slimy shooting up his throat. He spit it out, staring down in disbelief. A leaf. Dark green, broad, tapering to a point. </p><p><em>A leaf.</em> Kenma's heart jumped. But <em>not a flower.</em> Hanahaki was flowers, right? So, maybe, this was all a cosmical mistake. Maybe he'd slept with the window open and he just <em>so happened</em> to have swallowed a leaf that blew in while he slept. <em>A</em> <em>perfectly reasonable explanation...maybe? </em>he thought to himself tentatively. <em>No Hanahaki.</em> </p><p>Flushing away the evidence of his queasy morning, Kenma wilfully ignored the pressure still prickling in his chest. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Somehow, you look even more awful than you did this morning,” Kuroo said with dry amazement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma glared at Kuroo while he sluggishly pulled on his gym clothes. “Whatever. I don't want to hear that from someone who doesn't even comb his hair every morn-</span>
  <em>
    <span> . . !</span>
  </em>
  <span>" The malice Kenma had mustered was undercut as Kenma erupted into a coughing fit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo's brow turned downward in concern. "What're you doing here, Kenma? You usually ditch if you have so much as a sniffle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sick,” Kenma asserted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I hear." Kuroo's hands found their way up to his hair, smoothing over the unruly peaks to no avail, "I guess I just forgot you always look this bad...”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma made it through almost exactly one full set of running drills before he was sent home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He'd tripped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was normally the kind of thing you'd just shake off, but when Kenma hit the floor all he could do was lay there wheezing. It was alarming for sure. Yaku even fished out his inhaler to give Kenma a puff--a small relief. And after being surrounded by the concerned and questioning eyes of his teammates as he struggled to breathe—Kenma was glad to go home. On the plus side, no one would question when he skipped school tomorrow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>****</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma always felt like a child when he was asked to sit up on the doctor's exam table, legs dangling off the edge as he was poked and prodded. He avoided eye contact as the Doctor placed a cold stethoscope against his bare chest. She listened for a few seconds, then nodded thoughtfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma’s face scrunched up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what is it? It’s not... </span>
  <em>
    <span>you know</span>
  </em>
  <span>...is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen for yourself.” The Doctor took the stethoscope off and held it out. Kenma looked between the cool metal instrument and the woman's expectant gaze before taking it. He plugged the rubber earpieces in his ears, holding the metal bell part approximately where the doctor had been holding it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a while, “I don’t hear anything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No?” the Doctor asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frowning, Kenma moved the bell, wondering if he was using it right. All he could hear was the air passing in and out of his lungs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can't tell if this isn't working or not...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t hear that </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Doctor asked reproachfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you want me to hear,” said Kenma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor took the stethoscope back, making some adjustments to the placing over Kenma's chest.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen. You don’t hear that . . . </span>
  <em>
    <span>rustling?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The scratching?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kema frowned, taking back the device for another chance to listen, but no matter how he strained—the only thing he could hear was the rasp of his own shallow breathing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There's nothing there,” Kenma insisted quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doctor straightened upright, face grim. “The patient cannot hear symptoms in his chest,” she announced to herself as she scribbled on a clipboard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” asked Kenma, raising his voice a little more assertively. “What's wrong?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma's question went ignored as the Doctor left the room, shutting off the light and closing the door behind her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma sat in disbelief, eyes adjusting to the dark and wondering if that meant he was expected to wait or leave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor returned without explanation, now pulling a large, wheeled monitor behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled it to a squeaky stop in front of Kenma, hitting a button somewhere in the back. A bright white light whirred to life, causing him to squint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There,” the Doctor said, tapping at the screen with a pen. “And there. Also there. Some here.” As she demonstrated, the sound of her pen rapped sharply against the image.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once it didn’t hurt his eyes to look into the light, Kenma blinked in confusion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t see anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doctor clicked her tongue. “Young man, your parents tell me you have good grades—so why don’t you recognize </span>
  <em>
    <span>your own body?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma's face scrunched up as a puff of anger flared in his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s blank. There’s nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” He forced out, trying not to raise his voice. Was this a </span>
  <em>
    <span>joke?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I assure you, young man, that these are the innermost workings of your body,” said the Doctor, tapping aggressively at the screen. “Lungs.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>tap.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Diaphragm.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>tap.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Heart. I understand these scans are hard to read if you're not a medical professional, but you can still see the afflictions here quite prominently."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There's </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the screen,” Kenma insisted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No?” The Doctor took a silver pen from out of her breast pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look down the middle please,” she said, tilting until they were both eye level.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Follow the light—here—” she directed, a little yellow light piercing Kenma’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hummed. “As I suspected—they’ve begun invading your sight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are--” Kenma began, stopping as his mouth suddenly felt dry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor clicked the instrument off, staying level with Kenma’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were a smart boy. They’ve made themselves pretty obvious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, could you tell me-” A cough overcame him, and Kenma doubled over to hack his lungs out downwards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was pushed back upright by the Doctor, grip tight on his shoulder as she discarded her stethoscope, putting her ear directly to Kenma's chest instead. He froze up at the contact. The doctor held herself there, listening before she pulled back with a wide smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, maybe you can’t see them, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>surely</span>
  </em>
  <span> you can hear them! I don't even need my tools anymore!" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma shook his head in a daze, feeling increasingly ill. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor tutted. "No more denying it now! I can hear them. They’re on their way up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma's heart stuttered at the suggestion, right hand clenching over his chest. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> see or hear whatever the Doctor had been trying to point out, but now he swore he could feel</span>
  <em>
    <span> something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like something was climbing up through his esophagus, hooking small needles in his throat for grip as it went up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma looked up at the sound of crumpled paper. The Doctor had pulled the wrapping off a tongue depressor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She grabbed the bottom of his jaw. “It’s coming. Now open up--now stick out your tongue.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma did as she instructed, suppressing a gag as she placed the flat of the stick against his tongue, clicking her penlight back on to get a better look down his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow!” She exclaimed, putting the light back in her pocket. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> I can help them out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma gagged as she nudged his mouth open wider, wrapping her free hand securely under his chin, pushing his head back. Three gloved fingers pushed inside his mouth, sliding past his gag reflex, and ----</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heyyy.” </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma jolted awake, inhaling sharply. He could breathe. Thank goodness, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he could breathe.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo stood above him, gently nudging him with his foot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking around, Kenma realized he was still in the club changing room, having fallen asleep on the floor. He stretched his neck to the side, sore from having used his sports bag as a makeshift pillow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are--what time is it?” He rasped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Practice ended, sleepyhead. Thanks for waiting for me, but it's time to go home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Kenma sat up, rubbing his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Calm down.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thumped his chest with his fist, testing his condition. His throat felt raw, but there was no straining in his chest and the taste of bitters no longer lingered in his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma took the hand Kuroo offered as help, pulling himself off the floor with a grunt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly, Kenma! You had me worried, nearly passing out like that--I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you wanted to go to practice today…" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “I dunno either. But, now that I've slept, I do feel a lot better than I have all day. I think I'll be okay tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo stared down at him, face solemn for a second before breaking out into an easy warm smile. He patted Kenma on the shoulder. “Well--good. Miss a few more practices and Coach might sub you out for Tamahiko when we make it to nationals.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Kenma answered simply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go home. You need to get some sleep, ugly,” Kuroo said with a half-hearted tease.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>ugly,” Kenma grumbled back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>****</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At home, Kenma immediately crawled into bed. He'd spent his energy resources for the day. And, maybe, if a nap could take the taste out of his mouth, he could probably sleep off whatever kind of sickness he had by tomorrow. Nestling into his pillows, he took a deep breath that turned into a yawn. He would be fine. And if he heard rustling as he drifted away, he told himself it was the wind in the trees outside. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note</p><p>Description of Sickness is Offically Rated: Icky&amp;Gross</p><p>If you're squeamish...please be cautious!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, all was fine. The color had returned to his cheeks. The sweats and nausea were gone. No little round seeds hacked-up into the sink. Nothing to even suggest yesterday happened at all. </p><p>After breakfast, Kenma headed out. </p><p>Kuroo was waiting outside, as usual. </p><p>“Hey—You don’t look seconds away from death anymore!”</p><p>“Hey,” Kema replied flatly. “You look...” He stopped. Kuroo's hair was slicked backwards flat, like a greaser (although some of the effect was lost, because of how the hair was beginning to stubbornly curl up at the back). </p><p>“...short,” Kenma finished.</p><p>“I think you mean ‘handsome.’”</p><p>“Hm.” Kenma whipped out his phone, having spiritually finished participating any further in the conversation.</p><p>Kuroo sighed, taking the lead on their walk to school. “Yup. Back to normal. My best buddy Kenma. Always full of energy with a big happy smile on his face.”</p><p>
  <em> “Neh.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> *** </em>
</p><p>Unfortunately, despite his lack of symptoms, Kenma still found himself struck with twinges of panic throughout the day. His nerves only eased with frequent checks—swallowing, searching for any signs of tightness or bitter taste. His breathing was slow and purposeful, hand pressed to his abdomen to feel for any changes. Thankfully it remained that he found nothing. </p><p>By the end of school, Kenma concluded that whatever it was must have withered away after all. </p><p>And he felt better than ever. His focused breathing had rejuvenated him. By the time practice rolled around, Kenma was kind of excited to see how the reserve of energy he’d built might improve his performance. It felt out of character to say so, but he felt <em> great </em> . Every dive, dig, set, and serve was as simple as pressing A to perform a task. Coach had even praised him with light commendation: <em> “Looks like you’re finally trying to catch your body up to your brain.” </em></p><p>Kenma worked himself hard until he could feel the damp sweat and the ache of his muscles, not sore, maybe a little weary—they only needed a good shake to be as good as new. </p><p>When Coach blew the whistle, Lev was already down for the count, face-planted on the gym floor in exhaustion. Others folded over to brace themselves on their knees or lean against the nearest surface. Even Inouka, as energetic as he was, had plopped down to the floor for a breather. </p><p>“Okay,” Coach said, standing over them. “So far, you’ve all been keeping up. With that being said, practice is halfway over and too many of you look like you’re running on fumes. So,” he clapped his hands, “there’s been a change of plans for the rest of tonight. We’re stepping away from the net. Everyone outside—it’s time for some good, old-fashioned, endurance running.”</p><p>There was a collective groan as each person began to shift and pull themselves up to head toward the doors.</p><p>“But Nekomata-sensei, I want to spike<em> mooooore </em>,” Lev moaned as Yaku peeled the first-year off the floor.</p><p>“Lev,” Yaku chided, steering his underclassman to head out. “Quit running your mouth and start running your feet!”</p><p>For the first time in <em> ever </em>, Kenma had a little bounce in his step as he followed his peers. </p><p>A run sounded nice. Have some alone time with his thoughts. Some Kenma time. Just for Kenma.</p><p> They all met by the front gate of the school, lightly stretching as they waited for the go-ahead. The whistle blew and they were off. </p><p>In top form, viciously grinning at each other, Kuroo and Yaku quickly took the lead, always trying to outdo the other. Per usual, their initial burst of speed would keep them heading the group for a while before they started to wear themselves down. After that, Inouka would eventually pass the two with his fast, yet more manageable, pace. Yamamoto came afterward, jogging with a serious look on his face. He would claim that “a real man sets his own pace. He doesn’t need to beat the crowd” despite looking pissy whenever he would almost outpace Kuroo and Yaku before they swiftly carried themselves away in another competitive sprint. </p><p>It isn’t a surprise to anyone, but Kenma came in near the end of the pack. Not that he cared. He liked a more conservative pace, taking a chance to absorb the scenery by himself. </p><p>Oh. </p><p>And then there was Lev. </p><p>He was usually behind Kenma, despite Kenma’s lack of real effort when it came to their endurance runs. </p><p>It made Kenma wonder if there might be some hidden logic at play, considering that the fastest of them (Yaku) had the shortest legs so, therefore, the one with the longest legs (Lev) was the slowest. </p><p>The thing is, Lev likes to ask a lot of questions during their runs. Or just talk in general. The point being: Lev is <em> really noisy </em>. </p><p>“Ha! Kenma-san—soon I’ll be faster than you~!”</p><p>“Will you give me some tosses later?”</p><p>“Hey! Kenma! Do you <em> taste </em> like pudding or do you just <em> look </em> like pudding?”</p><p>“Toss? Toss later?”</p><p>“How’s the weather down there?”</p><p>“Hey! Seen any cats today?”</p><p>“Kenma, how come you’re so bad at conversation?”</p><p>“Kenma, will you toss to me, THE ACE, later?”</p><p>“Do you think I’d be better at volleyball if my arms turned into snakes?”</p><p>“Toss? Toss! TOSS!?”</p><p>Needless to say, Kenma’s average run time improved by an impressive margin the week Lev joined the team.</p><p>As each runner hit their stride, the group began to spread out. And as his teammates disappeared ahead, Kenma began to drift into entertaining himself with daydreams. </p><p>There were spies in the trees—If he looked behind, he’d be shot dead. He was running from a monster that would sense him if his speed dropped by even a fraction of a second. He was a patient trying to escape from the doctors who conducted illegal experiments on his brain. He was a white mage racing to warn the humans before the demon king-</p><p>Kenma exhaled sharply as a burst of pain punched his lungs.</p><p>He stumbled to a walk. </p><p>He was suddenly—<em> very tired </em>. But, that was normal. </p><p>This was just his workout catching up to him, right?</p><p>Another pain sliced up his side before burying into his chest, and his heart rate leapt in alarm. </p><p>He grabbed at the pain with clenched fingers.</p><p>“Stop that,” Kenma commanded in a stern mumble. “Stop that right now.”</p><p>This was nothing. All he had to do was push through, he’d get his second wind, and the pain would go away.</p><p>Kenma grit his teeth, forcing himself to keep moving, but the needle-like pricking in his chest made it clear that his lungs couldn’t keep up. </p><p>Once more, He slowed to a walk, hand over his beating heart. Maybe he just needed to walk for a bit. Catch his breath and he’d be fine. He <em> is </em> fine. </p><p>I’m <em> fine. </em></p><p>Kenma froze as he tasted the increasingly familiar flavor of bile rising at the back of his throat. </p><p>Not a big deal. Others thrown up at practice before. Sometimes a person exerts themselves a little too much and they puke. It’s not unheard of. He wasn’t necessarily<em> sick </em>. </p><p>More bile rising up into his mouth. Hot and acidic—tasting like how medicinal herbs smelled. </p><p>Kenma hunched over, dribbling and spitting at his feet—wishing he could just hurry and throw up if he was going to throw up. </p><p>Bits of drool flew out of his mouth as he coughed—then, as if something had dislodged inside of him, with each heave of his chest and stomach a ball of pressure began to move up and up and up until suddenly—it wasn't- </p><p>And he- </p><p>He couldn't breathe<em> .  </em></p><p>He couldn't <em> breathe. </em>  </p><p>Kenma looked around wildly. </p><p>He was choking. </p><p>Somebody- Somebody had to help him! </p><p>But there was no one, and what had been Kenma's favorite spot to run was quickly becoming the opening of his autopsy report. Young male found face down in a lesser-traveled park after asphyxiation on his own...whatever the medical term for barf was...</p><p>Was <em>anybody</em> nearby? He tried to yell -“Help!”- but the sound stuck in his throat and came out a throaty squeak. There was no air. He needed air. <em>Help!</em> </p><p>Tears blurred his view as he tripped to his knees, weak from his run and lack of oxygen. It burned. A hot pressure wedged in his throat. Something that felt like a knot barbed wire writhing and pulsating, alive and determined to carve its way up and out. </p><p>He was on his knees now. He didn't know what to do. Clutching his throat, he swore he could feel something twisting inside. </p><p>His vision tunneled as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He braced both hands on the ground, face burning as his stomach violently lurched, cramping his sides as he spat up a mix of acid and drool. A warm trickle under his nose made him reach up and pull away his fingers to see a smear of red. His throat burned. There was no calling for help anymore.</p><p>Kenma shut his eyes, squeezing out more tears. He was alone and- </p><p>He pounded the ground with his forearm. He couldn’t <em> die. </em> Not like this—not while <em> EXERCISING. </em></p><p>Kenma gave another involuntary dry-heave, grimacing as the prickly mass migrated until he could feel something slimy tickling at the back of his tongue. Desperate, he shoved his shaking fingers into his mouth, ignoring how his teeth roughly scraped the back of his hand as he felt for a grip on whatever had come up. Feeling something between his thumb and pointer finger, he gripped on.</p><p>He cursed internally as he could only manage a small piece between his fingers. Were <em> these </em> going to be last moments? </p><p>Before he lost consciousness, Kenma forced his hand into his mouth, opening until his jaw hurt, pushing down his tongue and curling his fingers until he felt something slippery beneath his fingertips and pulled. </p><p>He gagged around the feeling of something slim and flexible sliding up from deep in his throat. It was long, or it <em> felt </em> long, as it blocked his airways as he tried to get it out. Finally, something gave way. </p><p>There was a snap at the thing he’d been choking on finally released. The rush of air that came next was almost as disorienting as its absence. Kenma gasped. He could <em> breathe. </em> The tears came even harder now, this time in relief. He felt exhausted and his throat was raw, but he’d made it. </p><p>Eyes blurry, he looked at the ground beneath him, slick, glossy with bile—there was green, a smear of red, the reek of vomit—the reek of pungent leaves—heat and pressure, rising<em>,</em> and Kenma <em>puked</em>.</p><p>After he was finished, his arms surrendered. Kenma collapsed. </p><p>As he laid his own sick, Kenma had one last thought before he passed out—“<em> Gross </em>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The medical term for puking is 'emesis'</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Kenma?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice was calling him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kenma!?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he breathing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So many voices. Difficult to focus on. Slipping away like a dream...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the dream was gone as he took a slow breath, the air sharp against his tender throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He breathed!” Another voice exclaimed, this time clear as crystal. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>See that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s not dead!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With effort, Kenma peeked his eyes open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kenma, can you hear me?” Hovering over his face was Coach. No...the assistant coach. He was speaking in that calm, urgent way adults would speak sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma wanted to assure him that he was fine, but he worried the words would hurt even more than breathing. He chose to nod instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god—He’s moving!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was that Yaku?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The assistant coach pressed a hand against Kenma’s forehead. It felt kind of nice. Kenma’s eyes threatened to close, but he willed them to stay open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you understand what I’m saying?” came the urgent words again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kenma croaked. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He felt like shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me the light,” he heard as his eyes fluttered shut again. Something carefully shook him. “Don’t close your eyes now, Kenma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma’s face scrunched in protest, but he squinted open his eyes again, flinching as a white light blinded him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know where you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma narrowed his brow, concentrating so the right words would come out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Park…” He wheezed out between shallow breaths. “Practice... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Running-</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s dying!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More panicked voices sounded around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Yamamoto!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma took another painful breath. “Blacked out. Couldn’t... breathe...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-Just let him rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we don’t know if he hit his head-”</span>
</p><p><span>They were all so </span><em><span>noisy—</span></em><span>how did they expect Kenma to explain himself? His brows pinched weakly in frustration as he mustered through the ache in his chest and throat to say, “</span><em><span>Not</span></em><span> concussion. Can’t</span> <span>breathe. </span><em><span>Fainted.</span></em><span> Talking hurts. Want </span><em><span>sleep!</span></em><span>”</span></p><p>
  <span>Kenma didn’t bother staying awake for anyone anymore. His eyes fell shut as he easily slipped back into the dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was only faintly aware of a floating sensation—of being picked up off the ground. There were more people speaking to him, or around him, but he couldn’t distinguish what their fuzzy murmurs meant. It was all a blur of noise and color until he was pierced by white lights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma wished he could close his eyes even harder at their blinding glow, groggily trying to turn away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone steadied him, gently cupping his head as a mask was carefully fastened around his face and neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At last, Kenma could breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*******</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma woke up in an unfamiliar place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, not completely unfamiliar—He could recognize a hospital when he saw one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to him, the curtains were pulled open, exposing a large window. It was sunny with clear skies—not even a bird to break the wide expanse of blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma tilted his face to soak in the warmth of the sun, its light slanting into the room in generous proportions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt...rested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yawned involuntarily, regretting the deep inhale as the memory of—</span>
  <em>
    <span>yesterday?—</span>
  </em>
  <span>resurfaced along with the feeling of congestion somewhere deep in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were still there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well...at least he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>die.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, maybe if he’d died he wouldn’t have to feel like garbage right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a bedside table to his left he found some sort of decorative plant, posed in a narrow vase with a little card posted beside it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A gift?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Curious over who might have sent it, Kenma squinted to read the small print. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Euonymus Alatus.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kozume Kenma. Hanahaki stg. 5”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait, these weren’t “get-well-soon” flowers—were these what was </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside of him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire display was about eighteen centimeters long—a thin green branch with thin blade-like ridges along the woody stem. Broad leaves sproute off from its length in thick clusters, decorated with tiny yellow-green flowers. Kenma might have even considered it a pretty plant if he didn't almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> the little bastards lodged in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma thudded his head back against his pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’d coughed some plants up and nearly choked to death before fainting in a puddle of his own vomit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His teammates probably saw all…</span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe this was how he’d die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma glared at the evidence of his ailment, then spotted a glass of water also left at his bedside.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You could drown plants, right?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He’d (accidentally) done the same to a succulent plant he’d once kept on his bedroom windowsill, so he knew it was possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma grabbed the full glass, chugging the water without pause. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After finishing, he tipped the glass away with a grimace. He imagined he felt the leaves weigh down under the weight of the water, but nothing more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He returned the glass back with a forceful bang against the tabletop.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What did he do to deserve this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s our little patient doing today?” the Doctor asked, switching on the monitor she’d brought in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma stared at the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I don’t see anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor craned her neck for a look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She apologised with sheepishness. "The cord comes loose all the time. Here we go-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After fiddling behind the monitor a few more moments, it flickered to life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma looked wearily at what surely was his x-ray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Springs of plants, veins, bones, stomach, lungs, and esophagus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn’t have been surprised—it only verified what he’d been feeling the past few days. But this...it looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wasn't a doctor, but Kenma was pretty sure the human body was supposed to die if that much stuff got all up in your internal organs and such. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Kozume-san." The Doctor came again, eerily calm considering what Kenma saw on the screen. "How many days ago would you say you first saw symptoms manifesting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma opened his mouth before frowning. As soon as the nurse noticed he was awake, there had been a flurry of tests and x-rays and—he hadn’t time to gather his bearings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but is today Friday? Or… How long have I been here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Her hands flew up in surprise. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You arrived at the hospital, still drifting in and out of consciousness, around 10 PM Thursday. You stayed overnight so we could monitor your condition, and that indeed makes today Friday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Well…" Kenma did the math in his head. "I guess the first time was…Wednesday morning? When I saw seeds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And did you tell anyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma fiddled with his hands. He wished he had his phone or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor turned to observe the x-ray results. “The speed at which the symptoms have spread is impressive. These results would be more expected in a late-stage patient—not a two-day case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma shrugged. He didn’t like being impressive in this regard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor scratched a pen over her clipboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have a latex allergy, correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma shook his head, following to watch as she pulled on a pair of lavender-colored gloves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor took out a fresh tongue depressor, “Open wide as you can, I’m going to check if I can see anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kenma opened his mouth, the Doctor gently placed the flat of the stick against his tongue, shining a small light inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, nothing yet.” She clicked the light off, storing it in her pocket and disposing her gloves in the trash. “We don’t want you having another choking episode. Although, Hanahaki isn’t usually a killer, so you can rest easier now that you’ve gone through the thick of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> die?” Kenma clenched at the thin sheets of his hospital bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor pulled out a chair, settling next to Kenma’s bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only in rare cases. For instance, if a patient bloomed flowers they were allergic to and suffocated. The few times that's happened, they usually end up in the hospital before they even know what they’re having a reaction to. That being said, death is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>one-in-a-million</span>
  </em>
  <span> exception. Not the norm. And...as far as I’ve seen, as scary your x-ray might look and as uncomfortable as you might feel, you should be fine. Somehow the bloom manages to work around the most vital bits of anatomy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, </span>
  <em>
    <span>how…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Um… ” Kenma’s question petered into nothing. Everyone kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> how to deal with Hanahaki, but he was hoping for a pill or something...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor nodded curtly, catching Kenma's unspoken question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shifted in her seat. “I wish I could give better news, but there’s not a lot that medical science can do. If it became life-threatening, surgery </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> an option, but that’s only a temporary fix. 90% of cases where they've surgically removed the seeds, the bloom returns within six months.”  </span>
</p><p><span>Kenma was starting to get antsy.</span> <span>He definitely didn't want this to turn into anyone prying into his (lack of) love life. </span></p><p>
  <span>His shoulders rose to his ears in defense, like a turtle trying to hide in its shell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to be perfectly transparent with what to expect with your treatment.” The doctor clasped her hands in front of her. “The Hanahaki phenomena isn’t fully understood. However, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>been theorized that, like how sickness thrives in a malnourished body—Hanahaki thrives in individuals who do not nourish their emotional needs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> how I feel about things,” Kenma asserted quietly, wishing he was anywhere but this conversation. “I’m not suppressed and I’m not lying and it’s not a</span>
  <em>
    <span> secret-</span>
  </em>
  <span> Me getting Hanahaki-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma huffed, frustration bleeding out in his tone. “I really don’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> like </span>
  </em>
  <span>anyone in that way! It doesn’t make any sense why it’s happening...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor gave Kenma a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I make it a point to never tell my patients how they should be feeling. Emotions are private things and it’s more than difficult to medically diagnose an</span>
  <em>
    <span> emotion</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We can only observe the symptoms. That being said, you’ve been losing a lot of water and you aren’t keeping meals down, so we’ll be keeping you under watch until it looks like you’re stable. If things get worse, we might consider surgical intervention along with therapy, but in a lot of cases...people usually pull through on their own. It’s a tricky disease.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh.” Kenma curled up to rest his face against his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, that’s it, Kozume-san. I’ll leave you to rest. Your parents are coming to visit this evening.” As she stood, she gestured to a little remote that was attached to the bed. “This is the call button. If you start choking, or if you need anything really, you can press it and a nurse will be by shortly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, it’s great to see you’re up and moving. I’ll be back periodically to check your progress over the next few days,” She nodded to the empty bedside glass. “We’ll get you some more water too. Any questions?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma had a lot of questions. But nothing he thought the Doctor could answer in a way he liked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor smiled. “Alright then. Thank you for your time, Kozume-san.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he was alone, Kenma sunk back down under the covers, pulling them over his head, imagining they were a funeral shroud. He felt close enough to death anyway. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Kozume-san, you have visitors! Do you feel up to seeing them?” the nurse whispered with excitement.</p><p>Kenma paused, looking up from his handheld. He’d been gaming pretty much nonstop since his Mom and Dad had thought to bring him his DS last Friday. It was a nice gesture, although they didn’t grab any additional games so he was stuck playing <em> Spade Knave (</em>since that’s what was left in the device). He wondered bitterly if she was so excited for him because he looked like the kind of pathetic loser loner who wouldn’t get visitors except for his parents. </p><p>And maybe Kenma felt a little like a pathetic loser loner, but even if he didn’t want to see anyone and wallow in his pathetic loserdom, there was no use trying to hide—he had a good idea of who wanted to see him anyway. </p><p>“Fine,” He said, playing up the raspiness of his voice for effect. “-but tell them to not be too loud.” </p><p>A sudden tickle in his throat made him cough—the weak hacks sounding fake even to his own ears. Yes, the nurse probably thought he looked pretty pathetic. </p><p>It was less than a minute before his team shuffled in, most definitely not trying to keep quiet.</p><p>“He’s alive!” Lev bellowed as if he were on top of a mountain, not in a hospital room.</p><p>“Oh my god-” Yaku was quick, striding across the room to hop on the bed, nearly landing in Kenma’s lap in his haste. Kenma didn’t even get a chance to flinch before Yaku was grabbing his face, searching Kenma’s pale and weak features before cupping a hand over his forehead. “You feel kind of warm. Are you okay? We were so worried! Do you need anything? Do you want some juice? Have you been eating?”</p><p>Kenma didn’t get a chance to respond before Yaku’s expression narrowed. “And why did you even <em> GO </em> to practice at all when you knew you were sick!” He gave Kenma a not very punishing pinch to the cheek. </p><p>“Oi, maybe give the guy some breathing room,” Kuroo said, hands posed to rest behind his head.</p><p>“We saw all those branches you puked up!” Inuoka informed cheerfully. “It was so <em> gross </em>—and so cool—and so scary!!!”</p><p>“I’ve come bearing gifts by the way,” Kuroo said, coming out of his pose to reveal the festive little bag he’d been holding. </p><p>Kenma accepted it, digging in curiously as Kuroo continued, “It felt in <em> poor taste </em> to bring sympathy flowers, so I hope you’ll enjoy-”</p><p>“-my phone charger,” Kenma completed. It wasn’t even a <em> new </em>one. </p><p>“You weren’t answering anyone’s texts!!!” Lev bemoaned. “Not even those lovingly sent by your favorite kohai! Which is me!!!”</p><p>Kuroo’s chin was high with pride as he crossed his arms and grinned. “All great gifts aside, how <em> is </em>our setter?”</p><p>The atmosphere shifted as his teammates began to accommodate themselves, grabbing available chairs to sit next to him, or simply helping themselves to sit on the bed. It was like they were getting ready for storytime or something and Kenma wasn’t sure how he felt about that... </p><p>After everyone was settled, Kenma gave a shrug, not sure where to look. He stared at the charger in his hands. “I don’t know. I’m not really sure what’s happening to me.”</p><p>His parents had asked him a similar question. Among many more probing questions that were <em>mortifying </em> : <em> “So is there anyone you like, honey? It’s ok. We’ll always be here for you, no matter who you like. Don’t feel embarrassed </em> .” What could he say? He didn’t know.</p><p>“I guess, they’re keeping me here until I stabilize. They can’t say what’s caused it, and there isn’t much else they can do...”</p><p>“Ah, but it’s Hanahaki, right?” Fukunaga spoke up. “So, isn’t it a love sort of thing?”</p><p>
  <em>Dammit Fukunaga. Weren’t you supposed to be the other quiet one? Why are you being so chatty! </em>
</p><p>The bedside table shifted with a scrape as Kuroo leaned against it.</p><p>“Ya think so? Our setter is pretty self-aware—do you think it’s possible that he fell in love and didn’t realize it?”</p><p>Kenma internally grimaced a bit. He wasn’t going to kid himself and think that his friends <em>weren’t</em> going to bring up lovey-dovey stuff, but that didn’t mean it didn’t bother him. </p><p>“I seem to have some weird strain,” Kenma said, swatting away Yaku’s hands as they started wandering over his face to check his temperature again.</p><p>Kuroo plucked up the glass of water at Kenma’s bedside, taking a swig. “Ah~ Good ol’ hospital water.” </p><p>
  <em> I’m not contagious, but I wish you wouldn’t drink from my glass. </em>
</p><p>“Really, though?<em> A strain?” </em> Kuroo asked with skepticism. “Never heard of different strains before. And here I thought Hanahaki was a pretty straightforward condition with a pretty <em> straightforward </em>cure.” </p><p>“So, are you going to tell Hinata?” Fukunaga asked.</p><p>Kenma tensed. The room went quiet. Kenma could tell he’d said what they all were thinking.</p><p>“I’m not in <em>love- </em>” Just as he raised his voice—something shifted in his chest and he was interrupted with a cough. </p><p>Yaku’s hands flew up, patting him on the back before twisting to grab the water from Kuroo. Kenma drank and drank until his cough settled back down. </p><p>It took a while before anyone broke the silence, until Inouka carefully asked, “...You’re<em> not?” </em></p><p>“I’m not, ” clenched Kenma through his teeth.</p><p>“You <em> sure </em> it’s not Hinata?” Yaku’s eyebrow was quirked in a question. “You called him by his first name the day you met him.”</p><p>“That’s because we became friends the day we met.”</p><p>“And you text him all the time,” reminded Yamamoto. “Whenever <em> I </em>text you, you don’t respond for hours! And when you do it’s just ‘K’ or ‘read at 11 PM’.”</p><p>Kenma bristled at his logic. “I see you every day —why should I worry about texting back? And I answer the way I usually do. I don’t text Sho— <em> Hinata </em>—any differently, really.”</p><p>“Who the<em> fuck </em> is ‘Hinata’?” Kuroo asked incredulously. </p><p>“Who <em> is </em>Hinata?” Kai whispered a little more sincerely.</p><p>“The orange one Kenma likes,” Fukunaga offered.</p><p>“I don’t<em> like </em>him!” Kenma hissed.</p><p>“That’s a little mean, isn’t it?” Inouka blinked. “I thought you guys were friends!” </p><p>Kenma felt heat begin to creep up the back of his neck. </p><p>“Just because I’m good friends with someone outside the team doesn’t mean I’m in <em> love </em> with them. I can make <em> frie- </em>” Kenma began to cough again, struggling to shrug off Yaku’s incessant mothering.</p><p>“But,<em> are </em>you in love?” Yaku asked.</p><p>“<em>No, </em>” Kenma croaked, heat creeping to his face.</p><p>Shibayama sparkled with enthusiasm as he spoke up next. “<em>Eh? </em>  Are you sure? Because isn’t Hanahaki that thing you get when you’re in denial!?” </p><p>“I’m not in love with<em> anyone</em>,” Kenma repeated.</p><p>“Well, you’re horking up plants. If that’s not love<em>, </em> I don’t know what is,” Kuroo remarked in a drone.</p><p>“Hey, hey!” Yamamoto cut in. ”Back off guys! It’s unmanly to harass another man about his feelings!”</p><p>Lev looked thoughtful. “Oh! Kenma! I have a great idea—have you tried maybe swallowing weed killer? Maybe<em> that </em>would make the plants go away!” </p><p>The suggestion sounded malicious, but Kenma knew Lev was actually trying to come up with a solution. A pretty dumb one. “Do you want <em> me </em> to die too?”</p><p>“Yeah, Lev—you<em> idiot!” </em>Yaku scolded, always ready to jump in on the chance to yell at Lev. “Everyone already knows Hanahaki is only cured by confessing!” </p><p>Inouka raised a hand, waiting until Kenma finally made eye-contact. </p><p>“You do stare at Hinata a lot.” He said once he had Kenma’s attention. “Like, at training camp you were probably staring at him as much as you were staring at your phone!”</p><p>“Because I was studying the <em> enemy!” </em>Kenma tried not to raise his voice or sound otherwise distressed. “I watched how other teams were playing too—that’s a normal thing to do in competitive volleyball!”</p><p>“That’s not how I remember it,” said Fukunaga murmured loud enough for everyone to hear.</p><p>Kenma declined to comment. </p><p>“So, you say it’s not Hinata. Well, we can’t really argue with that. You know yourself best.” Yaku spoke matter-of-factly. “ So, if not Hinata, then <em> who?” </em></p><p>“Not <em> anyone!” </em> As Kenma raised his voice again, the coughing returned, rattling his chest in short painful bursts. </p><p>“Oi, someone get more water!” Yaku commanded like an EMT in charge of an emergency squad. Shibayama came forward and placed a sympathetic hand on Kenma’s back, rubbing in comforting circles.</p><p>The rest of the team also drew closer, people patting his shoulder or the top of his head.</p><p>Kenma was not a fan of this closeness. </p><p>Then again, Shibayama was stroking his hair very reassuringly, and Yaku’s hugs were always pretty nice...</p><p>At last, a glass was placed in Kenma’s hand and Yaku began shooing everybody off. “Okay, Team. If Kenma says he doesn’t have feelings for Hinata, I think we should leave it at that.”</p><p>As Kenma took a sip, Fukunaga thought out loud, “I don’t get it. Hinata is Kenma’s only close friend outside the team, so...”</p><p>“<em>You don’t know my life,” </em> Kenma muttered into his water glass.</p><p>“<em>Ah </em> —I got it!” Lev suddenly blurted out, slapping a fist into his open palm like a gavel. “Maybe he doesn’t want to confess his feelings because it’s one of us!”</p><p>Kuroo burst into a fit of laughter, tears and all.</p><p>Inouka was quick to jump in, “Oh my gosh—that makes so much sense!!! Kenma doesn’t bring up his feelings because he doesn’t want to upset the team dynamic!”</p><p>Lev perked up, preening a hand through his silvery hair. “Hey! Kozume-san! It’s me, right? Is that why you always try to run away from me? Because you’re embarrassed for your feelings for your Kohai? It’s OK, you can tell me! I would never make anyone feel bad about their feelings! Or turn them away!”</p><p>Kenma wasn’t sure how this conversation could take a worse turn, but it did.</p><p>Yamamoto elbowed Lev’s side. “Alright there, <em> Casanova, </em> there’s no way our setter would settle for someone with infant volleyball skills. Kenma likes worthy opponents! He likes someone with guts! If he’s going to secretly like anyone, it should be me!” He proudly puffed out his chest, running a hand through his mohawk, then flexed his biceps.</p><p>“And I don’t think Kenma would be into me,” Inouka offered cheerfully. “Cause isn’t he into short guys?”</p><p>“Eh, then maybe Yaku!?” Shibayama exclaimed. Then paused, remembering his own measurements. </p><p>“But- It..it...couldn’t be me<em>, </em> could it?” he stammered, nervously hiding behind his hands as he began to flush red. </p><p>Kenma liked all of his friends but he hated this conversation. </p><p>“Yaku and Kenma <em> do </em>hug a lot,” Inouka added, reigning the conversation back again.</p><p>“Hey! Hugging is not inherently romantic! Let me hug who I want, or you guys aren’t getting them anymore!” Yaku snapped, tightening his grip around Kenma. “Also, there’s no fucking way I’d be dating a kohai!<b>*</b> Kenma would know that.”</p><p>Inouka pursed his lips in thought. “Then...it’s got to be Kuroo, right? Childhood friends and all that?”</p><p>Why was Inouka on his case like this? Was he just trying to be helpful? Because he WASN'T. Helping. </p><p>Kuroo chuckled.</p><p>“Eh, probably not. Pret-ty sure Kenma’s least favorite romantic trope is the childhood friend—though I wouldn't be surprised if I was the exception to the rule,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “I mean, have you <em> seen </em> me?”</p><p>Yaku rolled his eyes. “Shut up Kuroo, nobody’s into you!” </p><p>Kenma was beginning to feel the need to throw up for reasons now unrelated to his current medical predicament. He just wanted this conversation to end.</p><p>Inuoka smacked both his hands on the bed, his eyes were wide with concern. “But you <em> are </em> going to confess, no matter who it is, right? You’re going to get better, right?”</p><p>Kenma tried to say something—to either tell them off or lie or just ask for space to <em>breathe— </em>but he couldn’t as he doubled over in another coughing fit, a clump of withered and spit-slick leaves falling out of his mouth and into his hands.</p><p>His teammates watched in him fascination—it was one thing to know about Hanahaki, and it was another thing entirely to see it in practice. </p><p>Kenma eventually stopped hacking, breath coming in short pants instead. God, he was miserable. </p><p>“O-okay, okay!” Yaku said, suddenly clapping his hands before sliding off the bed to shield Kenma. “I think we’ve bothered him enough today—Kenma needs his rest. Let’s give him some space!”</p><p>Nobody was going to argue with Yaku. Soon enough, they were packing their things to head out the door.</p><p>“Goodbye, Kenma! I know you’re enough of man that you can speak your true feelings. So, I better see you soon!” Yamamoto warned, fist thumping against his chest on his way out.</p><p>“Goodnight. Don’t die please!” Inouka pleaded. “You’re my friend and I would be sad!”</p><p>“I hope you come to terms with your feelings soon~!” Lev winked as he left. </p><p>Fukunaga didn’t say a word of goodbye, but used two fingers to point at his own eyes, then turning one finger back to point at Kenma in the <em> “I’m watching you </em>” motion. It was unclear to Kenma what he was specifically implying, but maybe the point was to be concerning.  </p><p>Kenma was caught off guard as a hand swooped in, giving him a firm slap to the back, the force of it dislodging another coughing spell. </p><p>“Shit! Sorry!” Yaku fretted, pulling his hands back as if he were afraid he’d whack Kenma again.</p><p>Kenma pulled his hand away from his mouth with an ugly grimace at the spitty leaves that landed there.</p><p>Yaku skipped to the doorway, stopping under to turn back with a sympathetic shrug. “I guess that’s the thing with Hanahaki—you just gotta spit it out.”  </p><p>Yaku looked down the hall, expression twitching to annoyance. “Hey! You two! Stop peeking into other people’s rooms!” And then he was gone with the sound squeaking of tennis shoes running down the hall. </p><p>Kenma stared at the pile of soggy leaves in his hand. Well, what was he supposed to do with this? Where was the garbage? Was he expected to swallow them back down or something?</p><p><em> “Oi. </em>” </p><p>Kenma looked with the corner of his eyes to see Kuroo had stayed behind. </p><p>“Isn’t it time for you to go home too?” he asked with a little bitterness.</p><p>Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “Mm? The parents said I could stay late. You know—since my very best friend is very sick and all.”</p><p>“You should go home and study,” Kenma clipped, clenching the leaves in his fist.</p><p>There was a huff of a laugh. “Well, <em> you </em> should confess to the Shrimpy!”</p><p>Kenma frowned. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this, but-”</p><p>“-<em> you’re not in love? </em>” Kuroo finished, crossing his arms.</p><p>Kenma’s fist’s clenched tighter. “Yeah.”</p><p>Kuroo held up a stack of pamphlets, pulling a chair to Kenma’s bedside. “So, I was reading these in the waiting room—stuff about Hanahaki. Not a lot is known about it—it’s a pretty weird disease—but they say the recurring cause is repressed feelings .”</p><p>“Yeah, my parents read the stupid pamphlet too. But since they don’t know Shouyou, they both asked when I was going to tell <em> you </em>how I felt.”</p><p>Kuroo huffed out another laugh. </p><p>But it wasn’t funny. Kenma hated it. “When is everyone going to stop telling me how I feel? My parents, my friends, these dumb pamphlets, these—stupid flowers<em>. </em> I’m not repressed!”</p><p>Kuroo’s amusement faded with a sigh. “<em>Geez </em> Kenma. I will always cherish you as a friend, but you are the <em> worst </em> person to talk with about feelings.”</p><p>“Cuz I don’t really worry about those kinds of things...”</p><p>“Hey!” Kenma jumped as Kuroo lightly smacked his pamphlets against the bed. “You are a human person! So could you stop with the emotionless robot act?”</p><p>Kenma coughed. “<em>Beep.” </em></p><p><em> “</em>Honestly!” Kuroo rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re so scared about—it’s just a <em> crush. </em> No need to make such a show of it. Get yourself in the hospital, worry your friends and family, make <em> all </em> these <em> excuses </em>—”</p><p>Kenma wanted to retaliate, but couldn't find the words. He could only glare. </p><p>“And Shrimpy isn’t a bad person to have feelings for,” Kuroo continued. “Even if he rejects you—It’s not like he’ll stop being your friend.”</p><p>Kenma didn’t respond. </p><p>“ Well? ” Kuroo leaned in, his tone needling. </p><p>“I don’t want to talk anymore. My throat hurts.” Kenma coughed a few times for effect, regretting it as a wash of bitter flavor hit the back of his tongue.</p><p>“If that’s how you’re going to be, then fine.” Kuroo shrugged, pushing himself to his feet. “I, your friend, came to visit and support you—but, hey—sometimes a guy’s gotta accept that isn’t enough...” </p><p><em> Groan. </em>Why did he have to act so woeful? </p><p>Kenma stopped Kuroo with a raised hand as he began to leave. “Wait. <em> I’m sorry,” </em>He managed to drag out.</p><p>Kuroo turned back around, waiting expectantly. </p><p>“Maybe I’m...a little... overwhelmed from having to deal with so many people over the past few days. Still. Thank you for coming to see me.” Kenma held out his fist, turning it downward. “And, here.”</p><p>“Huh?” Kuroo blinked.</p><p>“It’s a gift.” Kenma shook his fist enticingly. “Take it.”</p><p>Once Kuroo held out his hand, Kenma dropped in the slimy pile of leaves he’d been holding.</p><p>Kuroo gave a withering look at the pile of regurgitation. “...thanks, Kenma.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.” Kenma wiped his now free hand on the bedding. “I made them myself.”</p><p>Kuroo’s nose wrinkled, quickly going to rinse his hands off in the little sink available in the corner. </p><p>While washing the friend-spit away, one of the leaves swirled around the basin, too large to slip down the drain. Curious, Kuroo picked it up to inspect under the light.</p><p>“Huh.” His eyes met Kenma’s. “It’s kind of plain, isn’t it? A little basic. I thought Hanahaki was supposed to be flowers, not boring-ass tree leaves.”</p><p>“Sorry they’re not <em> pretty </em>enough for you.”</p><p>Kuroo dropped the leaf into the trash. “With how they put you in the hospital and all, all I’m saying is they should at least be pretty.” He checked the clock and squinted. “Ugh. Well, it’s about that time. I’ll see you after school tomorrow.”</p><p>Kenma tilted his head. “What about practice?”</p><p>Kuroo shrugged nonchalantly. “Eh, just cuz I’m the captain doesn’t mean I have to go to <em> every </em>practice.”</p><p>“Yes it does?”</p><p>Kuroo placed his hand on Kenma’s head, giving a few pats.</p><p>“Well, if you’re so worried about me missing practice, then you should get better<em>.” </em></p><p>*******</p><p>As soon as he thought things might be getting better, they got worse. Kenma woke up in the middle of the night gasping. He couldn’t breathe. His chest was so heavy—so <em> tight. </em> Every exhale sent dozens of needle-like pains through his chest. They were growing. His insides would burst and he’d be found like an old doll with its stuffing spilling out in vibrant green bursts. <em> Water. </em> He wasn’t even sure he could swallow, but he was going to try. His arm flailed out, missing the stupid little plastic cups and knocking them onto the floor. He grabbed for the pitcher instead, but the weight was too much for his shaking arms and Kenma grunted as it slipped from his grip, spilling across the tile.</p><p>  <em>Of-fucking-course. </em>Kenma could already feel hot tears of fear and frustration on his face as he grasped around the bars on the bed, searching for the call button in what little light was cast in from the window to the hall. At last, he felt the little remote. He pushed with shaky fingers before falling back into bed. </p><p>He closed his eyes in a grimace as he was overcome with cough. He coughed and coughed, spitting up leaves that were too sharp , collecting them in his fist, desperate for it to finally end.</p><p>The nurses were probably quick, but Kenma couldn’t tell. He could remember the feel of the lights coming on from behind his eyelids as the sound of hurried voices and feet entered. Firm hands propped him upright while another pair worked a mask onto his face. </p><p>Then, the difference was immediate. </p><p>Ah, <em> sweet, sweet oxygen.  </em></p><p>From there, everything was even fuzzier. Kenma was pretty sure his doctor had come and said a few words to him. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, so time was difficult to track. The sky was red. Was that dawn—or maybe dusk had come again? </p><p>At some point he noticed how his hands ached,  looking down to realize he was holding a tight fist. </p><p>Releasing his grip, Kenma unfurled his fingers to reveal the leaves bunched there—all burning a bright blood red.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*All of the kohai's hearts break when Yaku says this.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the end.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Good morning, Beautiful,” Kuroo sang over the phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's 6 PM.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then, good evening, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ugly.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After his choking attack, the Doctor decided that Kenma needed to stay under observation for a little longer. He hadn’t gone to school for the last three days, but Kuroo was ever dedicated to finding time to talk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the ugly one,” Kenma mumbled into the receiver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You callin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> handsome mug ugly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma’s phone vibrated as he received a text. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What was Kuroo up to now?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><span>Opening the message, Kenma was subjected to probably the most unflattering selfie he’d ever seen—the blurry focus, the high angle, the poor lighting—although what truly made it the worst was the hair. Kuroo had slicked it down again, this time parting it right down the middle like some sort of 1920s era prep boy.</span> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kuroo, just stop it with the hair--you’re making it worse. And-” Kenma peered closer at the image. “Is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> sweater you’re wearing? Is that my </span>
  <em>
    <span>room?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m supposed to be</span>
  <em>
    <span> you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t you tell? And I thought I got the hair just right...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of rummaging on the other side of the line triggered not a little anxiety as it was clear Kuroo was digging though something in his room. Kenma didn’t have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘secret stash’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>of anything unscrupulous but he still couldn’t help but feel nervous that Kuroo might find something anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ambivalent to Kenma’s concerns, Kuroo continued, “Anyways—since you keep insisting you’re not in love with the person you’re in love with, I was doing some research-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll hang up. Right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How could you even</span>
  <em>
    <span> suggest</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing such a thing to your best friend, senpai, and biggest source of inspiration!?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma made sure his sigh was audible enough to hear.</span>
</p>
<p><span>That didn’t deter Kuroo. “</span><em><span>So,</span></em><span> I was looking at stuff online about Hanahaki and then I found a few cases where it turns out that—like, there was this </span><em><span>one</span></em><span> dude who got Hanahaki one time, and he insisted that didn’t have feelings for anyone, but then,</span><em><span> guess what</span></em><span>, it turned out that he was actually</span> <span>in love with this one buxom purple alien girl with tentacle pigtails from a fighting game he liked to play.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma nodded in recognition. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Princess Cthulubell from Monster Maiden S.M.A.S.H.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The guy was sick until he finally admitted he genuinely had feelings for this character. Then, when the creators heard about it, they made an animation of the character saying something like ‘I accept your feelings, nyan~’ as a PR event!</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, Kenma remembered that story circulating a lot of gamer forums a while ago. Although his opinion on the matter hadn’t changed from back then—Princess Cthulubell would ever fall for someone too scared to confess their feelings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So can you guess where I’m going with this, Ken-chan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma rolled his eyes. To himself. “Kuroo, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> in love with a video game character.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo snorted out a laugh. “You said it, not me.” There was more rummaging that Kenma now recognized as the sound of Kuroo going through his collection of games. “But, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I actually thought maybe we could look at all the waifus and husbandos you’ve taken and see if you have a type.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma’s nose wrinkled. “Kuroo, this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one asking the questions here,” Kuroo asserted playfully. “So, tell me. Which characters do you like to date?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, the best ones?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O-kay, you got me there.” Kuroo’ voice sounded further away as there was more rattling. “Don’t know why I thought it’d be that easy—Hey! I’ve played this one! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Princess Party Party Panic!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ended up married to Princess Moonglare—love me those cruel tsundere anime girls. How about you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sooner Kenma went along with it, the sooner this would probably be over. “Princess Sundrop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh?” Kenma didn’t have to see Kuroo’s expression to hear his disapproval. “Wasn’t she kind of annoying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>annoying</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” Although this wasn’t the first time Kenma had heard such a complaint about the character (she didn’t deserve it). “She’s passionate and maybe a</span>
  <em>
    <span> little </span>
  </em>
  <span>excitable. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Plus, she was way friendlier than Princess Moonglare—I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> people like characters that only say mean things to the player character. And, anyway, it’s accepted knowledge that if you stan Princess Moonglare you’re either a masochist or you prefer women to be seen not heard, sooo...”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“H-ey, now—That’s harsh, buddy! I love assertive women! It’s just that Princess Sundrop felt a little less mature</span> <span>than Princess Moonglare. And maybe Princess Moonglare didn’t get a lot of lines, but there was a lot of subtlety to her silence!”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t like quiet-type characters either. If I dated a quiet person we’d probably never talk at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay okay—well, how about this one?</span>
  <em>
    <span> Vampire 2 Werewolf II: Love At First Bite?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma sighed, already feeling drained by Kuroo’s line of questioning. He fell back into bed, staring at the tiled ceiling of the hospital room as he answered. “In that one, I entered a soul-bond with Duke Abnerathy.”</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma absently massaged the underside of his neck. All this talking was irritating his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a reverse vampire who thrives in the sunlight. The other vampires shun him, but he doesn’t care. He was the least creepy of the suitors—no Non-Con scenes and he’s the only one who doesn't bite the MC.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“OK. So, another nice and sunny character.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t get it wrong,” Kenma contended. “I don’t just like </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘nice’</span>
  </em>
  <span> characters! In </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evil Underworld Doki-Doki</span>
  </em>
  <span> I dated Prince Agrimony and he wasn’t nice at all! I mean, he could say some pretty cruel things if you chose the wrong dialogue options.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo hummed with the new information. “Then what caused you to pick his route?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it happened accidentally. There was a point I realized that the mechanics of interacting with Prince Agrimony were different than interacting with the other characters—I kept getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad ending </span>
  </em>
  <span>after </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad ending</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so I kept going until, before I knew it, the challenge had sucked me in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so you were drawn into a romance built on an irresistible challenge.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“I wouldn’t say it was </span><em><span>irresistible.</span></em><span>” Kenma denied.</span> <span>“It was just...interesting.” </span></p>
<p>
  <span>There were more sounds of plastic cases shuffling against each other. “Hm. Maybe we’re using too many fantasy examples. What kind of characters do you like in modern settings?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was going to be difficult to find one of those in Kenma’s collection. “What’s the point of playing in a world that looks exactly like the one I live in if I could play in a game where magic exists?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Found one!” Came Kuroo’s triumphant voice. “Oh~ a high school setting!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> high school settings,” Kenma mumbled. “I don’t even like the ones in real-life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I played this one too! I liked the literature club girl. Who’d you pick?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t finish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Boring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo sighed. “Fine, fine,</span>
  <em>
    <span> fine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m putting this one away and- oh! How about looks? What character designs appeal to you?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Kuroo, they’re </span><em><span>video game characters.</span></em><span> I’m</span> <span>not attracted to them!”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ayy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> some of those 2-D babes can be pretty hot!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma fixed his phone with a look of disappointment that Kuroo wouldn’t be able to appreciate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever. Anyway, even without your help, I’ve found the beginning of a pattern. You like ‘em </span>
  <em>
    <span>short </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Princess Sundrop and Prince Agrimony. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>orange hair </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Lord Abernathy and her ladyship Sundrop again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three doesn’t make it a </span>
  <em>
    <span>pattern.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Don’t come at me with your shoddy statistical analysis—it’s barely even a list.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure, whatever, Mr. ‘I-Can’t-Let-Anyone-Enjoy-Their-Video-Game-Waifus-and-Husbandos.’ Anyway, according to my carefully researched and peer-reviewed analysis, you like cheerful, talkative, formidable enemies who may or may not be short with orange hair. Sound like anyone we know? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyone at all?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma’s jaw clenched. “No. It doesn’t.</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>***</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few more days in the hospital and Kenma was experiencing fewer choking attacks. His condition was looking hopeful—there were talks about releasing him to go home, but after ordering a final set of x-rays...whatever came back in the readings must have been cause for alarm. He was informed he had to stay for further observation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma stared at the ceiling, breathing slow and shallow breaths. The room was bright. Not a blinding, sterile, white light, like the first night he’d arrived, but a warm afternoon glow. A soft breeze tousled the curtains that framed the open windows. The fan in his room thrummed rhythmically. Carts rumbled as they were wheeled down the hallway,  tiny little birdies sang outside and the weather was perfect. The day felt more peaceful than Kenma thought it had any right to be. He could still feel the weight of leaves, although they didn’t hurt as much. He’d been informed that the pain was numbed as the disease's roots had spread along his nerves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A vase was posed at his bedside table with a sample from his last attack.  Leaves that were once dark green had seasoned into a bright shade of red. Alarmingly red. He’d asked the staff if it meant anything, but they only said it was likely a natural condition of the species of plant and was not a reflection of health.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not a reflection of his health—but, he was getting weaker. He was sleeping for longer portions of the day, he’d lost his appetite completely, and now his parents were asking about the possibility of intervening surgery...Things were getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma’s thoughts were disrupted at the piercing squeak of tennis shoes running down the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hmm... it was probably Kuroo. Kenma had been avoiding any of Kuroo’s texts after he’d found about his newly extended stay. They’d planned to meet the day he was supposed to be released but, obviously, Kenma hadn’t shown up. Kuroo was probably wondering what happened—well, Mom had probably told him about the results in the x-ray by now, but he should really get ready to apologize anyw-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hiya, Kenma!!!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma flinched, eyes closing reflexively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe this was a bad dream. A nightmare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“KENMA.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma jolted up at the proximity of the voice at his ear, eyes wide, heart racing, as another bout of coughing was triggered by the sudden movement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma folded over, choking, as his vision began to swim. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This can’t be real.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But reality apparently wasn’t going to listen to reason as the presence beside him continued to speak. “Ah! Oh! I’m sorry! Are you okay!? Did I scare you or something? Oh my gosh, should I call someone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma shook his head, wiping his watery eyes before he finally dared to look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shouyou?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he rasped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was it really? He was right there. Same hair, same eyes, same expressions. But Shouyou lived in Miyagi. Why—</span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> could he be here? Was this real? Did he die in his sleep or was he hallucinating? No, that was stupid. Shouyou was </span>
  <em>
    <span>here.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if to reinforce that present fact, Shouyou put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry—are you sure you’re okay? Should I get one of those nice nurses? I didn’t mean to scare you! Or-” The hand suddenly withdrew, taking its warmth along with it. “Wait—I’m sorry! Should I keep my distance? Maybe you’re contagious? I don’t exactly want to get sick and miss practice—I mean, I guess I can just wash my</span>
  <em>
    <span> hands</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Uh, nevermind that—I hope you’re feeling alright, Kenma!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma dug his nails into his palms, blinking as if he could will Shoyou away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou leaned to eye-level. “Oh man—You don’t look very good. Is it serious? Are you still gonna be able to play volleyball?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma closed his eyes leaning away—this was too...</span>
  <em>
    <span>too.</span>
  </em>
  <span>..</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his eyes again as he felt the weight of the bed dip and a warm presence close in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou was so close, he was seeing him crazy high definition. The curve of his cheek, the curl of his eyelashes, dryness in his lips, concern in his eyes. How did it get like this? Shouyou was real and he was leaning over Kenma, halfway pulled up with a knee perched on the edge of the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kenma?” Shouyou spoke, though it was difficult to pay attention when Kenma’s heart was beating at an alarming rate. Like, it was beating so fast that it felt like something was wrong. Maybe he was dying? No. He knew he wasn’t dying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Kenma knew what this was.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma frantically brought the back of his hand to his face to wipe the tears that had sprung up, the wrenching in his chest wringing out a sob. A sob that prompted a cough, coughing which lead to more </span>
  <em>
    <span>crying</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he became stuck, alternating between shuddering sobs and choking and there was snot and drool and he desperately wished he could stop but he couldn’t stop because Shouyou was here and everything hurt and he couldn’t catch his breath anymore and he should probably call a nurse, but Shouyou was right there and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he was definitely freaked out and Kenma couldn’t stop crying and coughing and, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he could feel something fighting to get out but if he puked up a bunch of flowers right now what would he even </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span>—?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma covered his mouth with both hands as his cough sharpened, each rusty wheeze scratching his tender throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was coming, it was gonna happen, it was gonna come out, he wouldn’t be able to hide it, Shouyou was going to see, what would he think, would he know what it meant, would he know?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pair of arms wrapped around him and Kenma stilled within the firm hold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-Is this okay?” Shouyou began rubbing circles between Kenma’s shoulder blades. “Whenever my sister’s sick, this makes her feel a little better.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma wasn’t even</span>
  <em>
    <span> sad,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so why was he crying and why did it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he felt so </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> but a part of him still felt nice because Shouyou was here and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma adjusted to reciprocate the hug, clinging to Shouyou’s back as he buried his messy cries into his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why did things have to end up like this? He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the way things were. Things left unsaid. So why did he have to get sick? Why did he have to end up in the hospital? Why did he have to feel so bad? And why did Shouyou have to show up and make him feel better but also worse?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma tensed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was too late. He could feel his stomach twist and everything gonna come out and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this time, it wasn’t bile and leaves that forced their way out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His grip on Shouyou tightened, and between a set of shuddery coughs, Kenma surrendered in two breaths, “I think</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>..I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma suddenly caught his breath again, slackening his grip in shock before his insides shifted in an entirely different way and the taste of bitter rose in his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No-” He shoved Shouyou away—WHOMPF—maybe a little too hard, as the young man tumbled to the floor </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gwah!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma ignored Shouyou’s plight, grabbing the nearby wastebasket with renewed speed as he purged everything he’d been holding inside for the past few weeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it stopped, Kenma stayed hunched over the sour and reeking stomach mush at the bottom of the wastebasket as he panted for his breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gross. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So gross.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he also felt so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could breathe! No more tremors. And there was a kind of tingling sensation washing over his body—like when the blood rushes back after sitting on your foot for too long. There was nothing left pressing against the inside of his throat. No pain. No pressure. And he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back with his senses, the smell of his sick was getting a little overwhelming and he quickly stowed it off to the side of the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jumped as Shouyou’s hand slapped next to him on the bed as he pulled himself off the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh right—he’d almost forgotten Shouyou was here too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As his company spang back to his feet, Kenma anxiously avoided eye contact, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry. For pushing you. And puking a lot. And, uh-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s OK!” Shouyou chirped. “I’m glad you didn’t puke on me though! I mean, I’ve puked on someone before—so I guess it’s not a big deal if someone pukes on</span>
  <em>
    <span> me</span>
  </em>
  <span>—it’s only fair</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And you’re sick, so I understand! Oh! And are you feeling any better now? I know I feel better after I puke a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, much better,” Kenma nodded, hiding his gaze in his lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on top.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmhm. It was bad for a while, but-” His voice was but a mumble, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“...I feel a lot better now that you’re here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha! Really!?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma could see the smile in Shouyou’s eyes. It kinda made him want to smile too. “Yeah”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He fixed Shouyou with a carefully neutral expression. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, um... did you hear? What I just..?</span>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kenma couldn’t finish the question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou’s hands flew up in a placating motion. “Uh, yeah, I heard you! But don’t worry, the sound of you throwing up didn’t gross me out too much!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. So after all that, he didn’t even hear the confession. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Or maybe you’re worried that I saw you crying?” Shouyou continued. “Don’t worry, everybody cries Kenma—being sick doesn’t feel good! I don’t think you’re weak or anything for </span>
  <em>
    <span>crying.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kenma’s disappointed noise slipped out involuntarily, making Shouyou tilt his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Huh?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shouyou echoed. “Something the matter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma shook his head on instinct. If Shouyou hadn’t heard him—was he still sick? Were the leaves actually gone? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting straighter, Kenma clasped a hand over his chest, checking for any tension that remained in his body. Something still caught in his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there wasn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, no...not really,” Kenma mumbled out an answer. He ran his fingers through his bangs and wondered how gross and nasty his hair looked right now. He looked sideways at Shouyou, a little smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. “So, you came here all the way from Miyagi to see me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou’s eyes lit up, plopping himself on the edge of the bed to sit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! Well, actually, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no,</span>
  </em>
  <span> not really. Kind of! Yesterday, I got this text out of nowhere saying that you were sick and I should go visit you or else you wouldn’t be able to play at the Spring tournament!  And, at first, I was like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘who is this number? Has Kenma been kidnapped?’</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Yacchan said it probably wasn’t a kidnapper so then I texted the number back it turned out to be-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-Kuroo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! And after thinking about it, I realized you hadn’t texted me for a few days and I started to worry that maybe you were dying and so I asked my Mom—since there wasn’t school or practice today—and she thought a short trip to Tokyo sounded fun! She’d been wanting to go out shopping anyway—and we came! So, Mom and Natsu are shopping—and since the hospital was only, like, ten blocks away from the shopping district I ran over on my own and—</span>
  <em>
    <span>I was a little worried about getting lost—</span>
  </em>
  <span>and then, well, now I’m here!” Shouyou concluded his story, his bright smile fading as he asked more seriously, “So...you’re not actually dying, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I don’t think so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good!!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma unconsciously clasped a hand over his stomach. A new apprehension was growing there. It felt like he was cheating, because even if Kenma had technically confessed, Shouyou still didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not really. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou pressed his hand to Kenma’s forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you’re not feeling feverish or anything—maybe you’re getting better? Although, your face is still a little red.” Shouyou’s hand traveled down to cup Kenma’s cheek. “I don’t know what kinda disease you’ve got, but you’re gonna be able to play, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma took Shouyou’s hand, gently pulling it away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t miss it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Shouyou brightened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s great!” Shouyou wiggled off the bed and hopped to his feet, doing a little fist pump in the air. Then a contemplative look crossed his face as he frowned. “Unless</span>
  <em>
    <span> I </span>
  </em>
  <span>get sick now. Ha—Kageyama would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> mad at me if I got sick before Spring High...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, what I had wasn’t contagious,” Kenma grumbled out, tossing off his blankets as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Although, even if you did get sick, I bet you’d still try to make it to Spring High.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou smiled sheepishly, scratching at the nape of his neck. “That sounds like something I’d do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma smiled. “Yeah. I can be a little irresponsible like that when I’m sick, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou gravitated a little closer. “That doesn’t surprise—I could see that!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A phone buzzed and they both looked down to check their devices.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou flipped his open first. “Oh. My mom wants to get going before we’re out too late...” He snapped it shut, spinning around to fall dramatically backwards on the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geez! After coming all this way I only got to see you for a little tiny bit!” he complained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just glad you came to see me at all,” Kenma said, opening his own phone. “Besides, we’re gonna see each other at nationals, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those were the magic words. Shouyou rocketed himself upright. “You bet!” He leaned over wrapping Kenma in another tight, warm hug. “I can’t wait~ But, I guess I gotta go!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou flashed a small apologetic smile as he pulled away. Kenma gave him a much smaller one in return, watching as Shoyou dashed out with a ‘goodbye!’ thrown over his shoulder, out the door, and down the hallway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No running! This is a hospital, young man!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry!!!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Shouyou was gone as unexpectedly as he arrived.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma’s smile faded as his face fell into his waiting hands. He released a small groan in the back of his throat. These past few days had been so awful—so </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d put himself (and his friends, and his family) through so much pain and now it was like it didn’t matter at all. Shouyou still didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed, tugging at his hair in frustration before pulling up Kuroo’s name on his phone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll be home tonight.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He hit send, and then decided to add,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> I talked to him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo texted back almost immediately, with a shocked cat emoji, an exclamation mark, a heart, and a winky face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma rubbed at his reddened face trying to make the color go away. He wondered how long it would last. Hopefully, the flush would fade before Kuroo got a chance to see it—like his friend needed any more fuel to poke fun at him... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh—but first he should tell the nurses that he was feeling better, shouldn’t he? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, maybe he was still a little queasy, but he was sure that was more because of Shouyou.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma was given a small shoot of the plant he had been horking up for the past days, planted lovingly in a little clay plot like it was some sort of souvenir rather than a reminder of that time he felt he was dying. At first, he was just going to chuck it in the garbage so he could move on with his life, but... Once he was home and hovering over the kitchen trash...he found he didn’t want to hurt the poor little thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not like the last few days had been the </span>
  <em>
    <span>plant’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he took it to his room. Splayed across his own bed, he held it up. The leaves had faded back to green in their new home. As Kenma gently inspected it with his fingertips, he discovered several flower buds were beginning to bloom. They were incredibly tiny—pale yellow, with four leaves surrounding a green center. He wasn’t good at taking care of plants, but he’d give it a shot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set it up on the windowsill, still looking at it in contemplation as he pulled his gaze away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma...definitely still liked Shouyou. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He probably liked him for a long while now, without noticing it. Or, actually, it would be more honest to say he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> acknowledged it and he had been deliberately t</span>
  <em>
    <span>rying not to think about it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there it was. Proof that Kenma liked Shouyou. He couldn’t lie about it anymore. Or ignore it. And honestly, he had been a little disappointed when he realized Shouyou hadn’t heard him. Didn’t a part of him want Shouyou to know? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this point he’s already told him </span>
  <em>
    <span>once</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so he wasn’t scared anymore. No</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span>—he was still a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>scared, but-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma pulled his phone out from his hoodie pocket. He stared at the empty text field for a moment, before deciding there was no use worrying too much on how to convey his message.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s something I should have told you by now. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
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